


Sense

by alienzbarz



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Emotion-Free Dystopia, Heavy Angst, Identity Issues, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienzbarz/pseuds/alienzbarz
Summary: In this world, emotions are considered a defect. Connor must work to find a cure to eradicate them. Emotions impede judgement, or as Hank, a patient in the Emotional Eradication Program, would say, "Emotions always screw everything up." Connor's job is to care for these patients, and try to find the mutation that still allows them to experience emotions.Warning: Minor character deaths + Depictions of violence. Not terribly graphic.





	Sense

**_DETROIT, MI. 6/10/2139. EMOTIONAL ERADICATION PROGRAM CENTRE No. 7. 11:10 AM_ **  
  
  
  
Patient 0007424 found dead in his room. Asphyxiation.   
  
  
"A shame to waste a life like that." Connor sighed, scribbling something on his clipboard quickly. "Of course, he was not the first, and most certainly will not be the last. We can't control what happens to patients constantly. We have to give them some sort of trust, or they may attempt to just end themselves in front of us." He moved on from the room, making a note of the drawings that covered the walls. Terribly loud and quite disturbing, he assumed someone would be around to clean them up later. Another layer of blue paint.   
  
  
Blue. What a calming color. So steady and reliable, like skies, it will always come back to blue. Blue, the color used as a projection of safety that used to be used as signals on cop cars. Safety, yes, that’s what this was all about. The safety of the human race, nothing more nor less.

Connor's train of thought came back to him as he sat down in the lobby, going back and forth between reading magazines and watching the doors.  
  
A new subject caught the eye of Connor as he entered the building. His eyes glinted with a fire unlike one he had never seen before. He looked like he was pulled straight out of a trash cube, his hair awry in all different directions, his clothes torn and sopping with what he can assume was alcohol, water, and vomit. The deeply emotion-ridden patients always were the ones that caught Connor’s eye. They encouraged him to find a cure more than the ones that were there for old illnesses that used to plague the old population, like depression or anxiety. Rarely would they get a patient so overwhelmed by emotion that they would look for older, forbidden forms of self-medication, alcohol or drugs, marijuana used for anything more than chronic pain relief, or anything of the like.   
  
In other words, this man, this emotionally distressed man, was entirely up Connor’s ally. He followed the guards that took him to his new resting area. The man seemed to not want to protest, possibly was trying to hide his emotions, but a simple blood test would show how much his gene has mutated and multiplied.   
  
When he arrived to his room, he waved off security, who regarded him with a small look of concern. Connor returned the look with a small nod, and, at once, the guards moved together, out of the room.   
  
Connor performed a quick scan with his ocular implant, and delivered it to his clipboard.   
  
“Patient 2634265, Hank Anderson. 53 years old, 210 pounds, 6’3”. You’re looking quite rugged for a man of your age, Hank.”   
  
Hank rolled his eyes on a reflex. “I appreciate your concern, doctor. Can you just get me hopped up on meds so I can get the fuck out of here?”   
  
Connor turns his head. “You haven’t been informed about how things work around here, Hank. My job is to find the root of your mutation and-“   
  
“You want the root? I was born in a time simpler than these. A war child, you could say. Where I’m from, no one is just happy being numb. Also, excuse the fuck out of you, I am perfectly fine looking for “a man of my years.”   
  
“How can you be numb to something you’ve never experienced?” Connor’s head tilted in curiousity as he leaned in the doorway.   
  
“I-Don’t expect you to understand. Anyway, do you need a list of my symptoms? What I’ve been feeling lately? Emotional scale from 1-10? Any of that crap?”   
  
“Those are all mere formalities. What I truly want to know, Anderson, is what makes you... Feel. Tick. What is it inside of you that drives you to feel this way? Or really, any way? How did you end up here.” Connor’s voice remained as even and calculated ever. Hank gave him the slightest of slightest smiles.   
  
“You’re not going to get in my head so easily. I don’t need to talk. I just got here by opening my big mouth, right? I didn’t come here for an interrogation.” Hank growled.   
  
“I expected nothing less from a former Enforcement Officer. I’ve enjoyed this, really. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. I will be back, Anderson.” Connor’s voice remained monotone, only fluctuating slightly at small points in the sentence.   
  
“Please, do me a favor and don’t grace me with your presence ever again, doc.” Hank called after him, but Connor was already gone.   
  
“I see you’ve taken to the new patient.”   
  
Connor looked over at Markus, who had been standing down the hall. “Were you observing me, Markus?”   
  
“Yes, but not for long. You have a certain way with words, Connor.”   
  
“Well, yes, I have taken to him.” Connor said, rocking on his feet while looking out the window. “He’s not quite like most of those here. He doesn’t seem to want to fight for his deficit. He’s also fascinating. His mutation was a birth defect.”   
  
“What about the last patient you were “fascinated” by? What happened to them?”   
  
“Well, one day he was in this facility, and another he wasn’t. We can assume he went missing, but I’m sure he’s found himself in the Underground. I’m waiting for the best time to strike and bring them all in. He’s freshly escaped, so I’m sure they’ll think he’s already found and removed his tracker. We change locations every time, so it may be a bit more difficult for him to locate it.”   
  
“You’re letting this fester?”   
  
“Markus. At the end of the day, in this society, groups like that are a minority. They have no real power, like emotions. It’s easier to lure them out if they trust each other. “   
  
“With all due respect Connor, I’m not sure you’re entirely correct. Society has attempted to eradicate emotions because of their power. You work here, in EEP. You see firsthand every day how powerful they can be.”   
  
“They are nothing more than a weakness, Markus. My apologies if what I said puzzled you. Emotions impede judgement.”   
  
Markus swallowed. Connor did not take note. “You are correct in that aspect. They do impede judgement.”   
  
Connor thought it was time to change subjects. “He also kept referring to me as “Doc.” I am a scientist, not necessarily a doctor. I wonder why.”   
  
“The way this facility is run is much like an old health office. He may be thinking of it that way. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”   
  
“He doesn’t seem to want to fight it. His file has shown disorderly conduct since the notice of his deficit. He isn’t diagnosed, he seems like a man who doesn’t care much about regular health appointments.”   
  
“Hm. I can see why he intrigues you, Connor. Just don’t get... don’t let him under your skin, alright? Don’t get infected.” With that, Markus spun on his heel and walked away from Connor.   
  
“I’m not sure what you mean, or what you are suggesting, Markus.” Connor called after him. Markus stopped walking. “I’ve worked in this field for years upon years. If you are suggesting one mere patient is going to ruin my research, you are solely mistaken.”   
  
“Whatever you say, sir.” Connor could’ve sworn he heard some sort of mock in his tone, like he knew something that Connor did not. He chose to ignore that. No use on dwelling on things he didn’t understand at all, it was a waste of time. 

Speaking of time, Connor had lost track of it. He took a quick look at his watch. "Ah, lunch. I'd nearly forgotten." He moved to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich. His coworkers always thought it was strange how he would prefer to grab lunch in the patient cafe rather than the employee lounge, but it gave Connor the chance to see what it would be like to engage in actual intriguing conversations about more than just work. He saw Hank grabbing his lunch and saw him fall into a group of Stage 3's that looked almost as he did. Ridden with emotion, pain, just doing what they had to do to get through the day. One he recognized as one of the patients that had caught his interest previously, a MtF individual who's gender was not recognized in the system for too long. As a child, it caused her to lash out at her doctors, when they told her she was approaching male puberty. As a teenager, it caused her much trouble in her closer-knitted friendships. Dysphoria started taking a stronger hold, and her friends did not understand why she was acting as if she didn't feel comfortable in herself, or society. Her style changed abruptly, as she started taking to more feminine outfits, which brought much confusion to her parents. This, of course, was just when extreme emotional regulation was a new technology. They attempted to repress who she was with medication, which then just made her act more and more unpredictably. Finally, her doctor took note, and was able to recognize who she was, but it was after she was already removed from her working position after acting as she did. They placed her in the EEP for a safe transition, and so she could wait herself out for a cure. These days, she was looking quite well. She arrived about 2 years ago. She was one of the individuals that Connor believed did not belong in the EEP, but he was not the one to judge. Connor walked over to the table, much to Hank's dismay.

"Hello Carissa. I hope you are doing well. You look much better than the last time I saw you."

Carissa smiled at him, the smile reaching the corners of her eyes. It showed her perfectly white teeth, and made her freckles curl up with the rest of her face. "Thank you, Connor. I am doing much better. Have you made any progress on finding a cure?"

Connor nodded. "We have begun to isolate the gene that causes the mutation. We are testing ways to suppress it safely. I believe we are coming close to a breakthrough." This was public knowledge, if you paid any attention to the news. Connor was fully comfortable with being transparent with patients. "Of course, we would not force anyone to take anything they would not be comfortable with. Not only is that against company policy, but it is against the law."

Hank took an annoyed bite of his sandwich and looked up at Connor. 

"Amazing! Last time I saw you, your team wasn't even sure what gene it was."

Hank looked up at her. Huh, Connor didn't quite notice. His eyes were so blue, nearly strikingly so. The color of safety. Connor found it interesting, for a man that seemed to live his life on an edge in an unsafe world. "You're telling me you want this cure?"

Carissa shook her head. "Oh, god no. For the people that do, though, that would rather go back to living a perfectly normal life, I encourage it."

Hank sighed, shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing the other half of his sandwich, and his fruits, and moved himself to another table.

"What's up with him?" Carissa gave Connor a puzzled look.

"He's... he's new. He arrived a couple of hours ago. I'm sure he doesn't trust me, which is alright, I've given him no reason to. Your words are safe with me, Carissa. I will use them for no more than logs for my research. I just want to understand."

"I know that, Connor. Newer folks would not, though. He doesn't seem like the type that likes to have a helicopter flying over him all the time. Maybe give him space, let him adapt first, yknow?"

Connor looked over at her. "You've got an eye for reading people. You would've made a fine Elementary teacher back in the day. I know that was your dream."

She gave a quiet, sad laugh. "Thank you, Connor. You always seem to know how to raise someone's spirits."

"Just doing my job, Carissa. I will speak to you later. I have work to attend to." Connor finished up his sandwich, and headed for the lab.

 


End file.
